


The Howl.

by Follevolo



Series: Tumblr prompts [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Bullying, Future Fic, Gallavich, M/M, Parenthood, highschool, married!gallavich
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:29:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Follevolo/pseuds/Follevolo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>«Don’t tell pa about it, please» he pleaded to Ian «he’ll think i’m a coward. I know I should have fought back, I know I should defend myself, defend you. But, really, dad, what was the point? I don’t care about what he thinks. What everybody thinks… We are so much braver and great and stronger than anyone in this neighborhood. I know that. You know that. Dad wouldn’t understand, you know, he still gives a shit about what people think about us. I know he didn’t want me because of it – sometimes, I think he just hates me because of it, you know. I don’t want to make things worse for him than what they already are.»</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Howl.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: a future gallavich fic, they have son, he's 16 yo, shy, science nerd, unpopular, he's bullied at school (because he's shy and has two gay dads), Ian discover the bullying and his son begs Ian to not tell it to Mickey, Mickey and his son are not very close and he's afraid Mickey will think he's a coward, one day he comes home with bruises, Mickey discover everything and with his son decide to teach a lesson to these kids (no idea for the lesson). Long and detailed, sorry :S
> 
> Never be sorry! I changed it a little bit, though.

He was no southside, and everybody could tell. He was kind and silent, with large shoulders a little curved in for too much reading and hands too big to hold a flower. He was silent and kind, he talked slowly and with a low, far voice, it seemed like every time he spoke he was never really speaking with someone in particular, but always just to himself.

He was smart – too smart for that shithole, and that was probably what made everything happen in the first place. Because it was so easy to hate someone your own level without feeling the need of destroying him. It was that palpable sense of inferiority – not that he liked to brag about it, it was just so evident – that made the kid want to put him in his place. Because he was the one with the answers and the other was the one with the notes for parents. Because he was the gentle one, talking politely with his hands clean, and the other spit smoke in the face of people while talking to them.

So one day it was just inevitable. Jaime Milkovich needed to learn the important life lesson of how inconvenient it is to be a good person; and he had to learn it by having his face shoved in the school toilet, by being beaten up, and by having the word “faggot” written on his forehead with a marker.

That’s what you get for reading Russian novels when teachers ask you to, he thought while he was walking home, asking himself how the hell that could pass unseen by his fathers.

It just didn’t, that’s how.

 

*

 

«Jaime Gallagher Milkovich – nothing good could ever come your way when a parent is calling you by your full name; that’s like the first adolescence law – could you please explain to me why do you have an homophobic insult written on your forehead? Your father is gonna go nuts, you know» Ian sighed and covered his eyes with a hand. They had been waiting for that shit since they adopted him, and it had been an argument for many years, an argument he thought he had won – till now. It wasn’t like Mickey didn’t want kids; he was just so scared of what their life could be with an homosexual couple as parents in this neighborhood. But Ian insisted for so long, and Mickey really didn’t want to fight against something he did want just as badly. They were ready to get shit – they were used to it. Shit didn’t come soon, though. They almost thought it would never come.

But here it was: shit.

Ian took his son’s hand in his and looked at him right in the eyes. He didn’t know Mickey was in their bedroom, silently waiting for the answer as well.

«Some kid at school. He doesn’t like to be the dumbest in class» Jaime said casually, like the matter didn’t touch him at all. He couldn’t care less about it, actually. He knew why he did it – because he was a pathetic, ignorant, little prick; he was actually quite sorry for him, because really, one day he would go out of that place and be someone while that kid would be cleaning the streets in an orange suit forever. In the long run, he would always win, and twenty years from now he wouldn’t remember that episode at all. But he knew that shit would hurt his fathers more than anything, especially Mickey.

He loved both his fathers – a lot. But Mickey and him had a strange relationship, made of very little words and very meaningful looks. They were as much alike as they were different. They had opposite interests and passions but they had the same way to express them. They loved different things, but with same depth and fidelity, and most of all with same silent dedication, like love was a secret treasure that needed to be hidden deep down their soul. They never told they loved each other, yet they did, totally, eternally.

Mickey’s fists tighten until he felt his nails drown in his own skin while overhearing his son’s next words.

«Don’t tell pa about it, please» he pleaded to Ian «he’ll think i’m a coward. I know I should have fought back, I know I should defend myself, defend you. But, really, dad, what was the point? I don’t care about what he thinks. What everybody thinks… We are so much braver and great and stronger than anyone in this neighborhood. I know that. You know that. Dad wouldn’t understand, you know, he still gives a shit about what people think about us. I know he didn’t want me because of it – sometimes, I think he just hates me because of it, you know. I don’t want to make things worse for him than what they already are.»

«Believe me, Jaime» Ian’s voice was trembling with anger and indignation and Jaime recognized in it the danger you get yourself into when you get in the middle of that inexplicable invincible bond his fathers had. He shivered lightly, and tried to get rid of Ian’s grip on his hands; but his father tightened it forcing to stay « I thought you were the fucking smartest kid in the neighborhood, but you are so dumb sometimes… Your father loves you more than anything in this shitty world. He just isn’t good at showing it – and you are not either. I got used to the fact that I’m the only talker here, you are always mute as mums, and you feel so much and you care so much I sometimes wonder how the hell you manage not to explode. You are just like him, for fuck’s sake, it’s almost like it’s genetic, even if it’s not. But you are not as smart as you think if you can’t see how much you father loves you – loves us. He wanted you so badly. He was never scared for himself, he was always scared for you. He was never ashamed of who we are – he was scared you would be. So don’t talk shit about Mickey Milkovich in front of me, kiddo, don’t you dare, or I’m gonna fucking shove your head into one of your big books and try and see if you can learn being a little more clever through osmosis!» Jaime rolled his eyes and laughed at his father’s joke of a threat, but he was hiding tears behind his eyes, because that was everything he had always wanted to hear, even in not exactly from Ian’s mouth.

 

Mickey had never loved Ian as in that moment.

 

*

 

In bed, that night, Mickey hugged Ian from behind, crocking his nose on his neck and biting little kisses on his shoulder.

«Thank you» he said, simply. Ian was silent for a moment, but it didn’t take long to put together the pieces. He smiled lightly in the dark and turned around to hug his man.

«I know it’s true» he replied, his voice tender «but don’t freak out about all the thing, ok? He doesn’t care, he’s smarter than that. He’ll go on with his life brilliantly and no one will ever get in his way. I love that about him»

«Me too. But no one fucks with the Milkoviches – or the Gallaghers – so just spit it out»

«Mick, come on… We are supposed to be the adults here – and it’s none of our business.»

«I said spit the fucking name out, Ian»

Ian sighed and rolled his eyes, biting his bottom lip to hold in a laugh.

«I know you rolled your eyes, Gallagher.»

«And I know you are the most overprotective, loving, adorable gay parent in this neighborhood, Milkovich, so just cut it with the I-call-you-by-surname-to-pretend-I’m-tough thing, you aren’t fooling anyone in this bed.»

 

*

When Jaime arrived to school the day after, he didn’t expect anything special to happen. He had managed to wash the ‘faggot’ off his forehead and the bruises bothered him just a little; they actually made him look tough, which was something he had never thought about before, but now that Alyson was looking at him that way… Well, it didn’t hurt.

He walked through the gardened entrance with his nose in Allen Ginsberg’s The Howl – his own special son-of-homos-and-proud parade. Strangely enough, though, he was almost sure to have seen with the corner of his eye his father walk away in the opposite direction, a ladder on his shoulder, a cigarette between his lips and a smirk on his face. He turned around to call him, his eyebrows raised in surprise, but Mickey was already looking at him from far away, a finger on his lips to shush him; they stared at each other for a second before he quickly started walking again, showing his back to Jaime and flipping him off.

At that point, Jaime was quite suspicious. He ran to the school doors without knowing what to expect. A laugh escaped his lips, his eyes widen in surprise, as he saw the kid basically plastered high on the wall, scotch tape all over him, covering him completely except for a hole were his naked little dick was laying, and a big red sign written next to him.

CAUTION. Homophobic little dick in his natural environment.

 

*

 

When Mickey came home late, that night, only Ian was waiting for him up – he was already under the blankets reading a book, though, as Mickey entered their bedroom, greeting him with a peck on his ginger head. They didn’t say anything, but the older felt Ian’s curious gaze on him and felt slightly anxious about it. He sat on his bedside and noticed on the nightstand a book he didn’t recognize. It was The Howl by Allen Ginsberg. Between the pages there was a picture of Mickey, young and smiley, a little grumpy two years old in his arms. Mickey smiled, brushing the happy faces with a fingertip.

I love you too – J

was written in the right corner of the picture.

Mickey heard Ian giggle next to him, and he punched him in the shoulder.

«Don’t say a word» he threatened him grumpily. He opened the book and started reading it out loud, while Ian cuddled next to him, his head on his lap «Fuck, this is some hardcore shit» Mickey commented.

He heard Jaime’s low laugh echoing through the thin wall, and he smiled.


End file.
